The Redemption of Draco Malfoy
by Muggle Jane
Summary: Hermione wasn't the only one to return to Hogwarts to finish her NEWTs. Oneshot, written for the HPFC Battle of the Houses.


**A/N: Nothing recognizable belongs to me. Written for the HPFC Battle of the Houses, prompt 9.**

"What are _you_ doing back here?" I asked, after the last of the prefects filed out of the train compartment.

"What, you didn't miss me, Granger?" he asked, a very amused look on his pointed face.

I scowled at him and refused to answer. I'd been very surprised to enter the compartment before the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross Station to see Draco Malfoy already seated there, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, a shiny silver Head Boy badge pinned to his casual charcoal suit coat.

"Father insisted."

That made a certain amount of sense. By all accounts, Lucius Malfoy was doing his absolute best to repair his rather tarnished public image. He'd very publicly donated a large amount of gold to the restoration of Hogwarts and, rumor had it, had even shown up in person to help with some of the magical repairs. Sending Draco back to finish his final year would further show that he supported Hogwarts and the "winners" of the war, especially if Draco minded his manners. He seemed to be doing just that. There was still a certain amount of arrogance to him, but he was being _polite_, a trait I'd never thought to ascribe to a Malfoy.

"Why are you Head Boy, though? That's the part that makes no sense." Professor McGonagall was Headmistress now, and there was no way that she would have let Malfoy's parents buy it for him, so the only answer was that she somehow thought he deserved it.

"It may surprise you, but my marks were always excellent."

"It takes more than good marks," I retorted.

"Might as well get used to it, you're going to be seeing an awful lot of me." There. There was the arrogant smirk I was used to.

I shook my head, exasperated. "I'm going to go patrol."

"What a brilliant idea! I think I'll join you." He unfolded his lean frame from the bench and moved to hold the door open for me. "After you."

I looked at him suspiciously. He wouldn't close the door while I was walking through it, would he? Or trip me? Or any one of a dozen things that I wouldn't put past him. I went through the door unhindered.

I made a sweep of the train, stopping to catch up with friends I passed. In short order, I was back in the compartment at the front of the train. Malfoy was already there, waiting for me. All of the prefects had stayed out to visit with friends, so it was just the two of us. I took a seat on the other side of the car and pulled a book out of my beaded bag to read it, determined to ignore him as much as I could.

It wasn't long, however, before I saw him settle himself in the seat opposite me. "What are you reading?" he asked.

I scowled at my book and did my best to ignore him, but his very presence made it difficult for me to do so. By the fourth time I read the same sentence, I'd had enough. I closed the book with a snap and set it down impatiently on my lap. "What do you want, Malfoy?" I demanded sharply.

"Conversation. Train ride's a bit long, isn't it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You want conversation. With... Me."

He leaned to one side, then the other. "I don't see anyone else in here," he said after a moment. "Unless you've got Potter tucked away on the luggage rack with that cloak of his."

I glared at him. "Conversation. You've barely been able to put two words together with me unless you were calling me a Mudblood," I spat.

"I'm sorry for that. Mostly..." He sighed, and a pained expression came across his face. "Mostly I was jealous."

I looked at him warily. "You're... You're not Malfoy, are you? This is all just some big polyjuice prank and in a minute the real Draco Malfoy is going to pop out of a trunk or something and you'll all have a big laugh at my expense."

"I've been through a lot, Granger. Surely you don't think you're the only one capable of gaining some perspective, I thought you were more open-minded than that."

I was opening my mouth to say something, but I closed it with a snap. There was really nothing to say to that, so I glared at him silently.

"Nothing to say?" he taunted.

I picked up my book and opened it again. I could feel his sharp gray eyes on me as I pretended to read. I only got through the first line three times before I dropped it to my lap again. "What?" I demanded.

"Conversation," he replied, his amused tone almost challenging.

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" I stared at him, eyes narrowing. He seemed quite content to sit there and pester me.

"No." He sounded smug.

"Fine. And what is it you want to talk about?"

"How was your summer?"

I blinked at him for a few moments. "What?"

"Your summer? Holidays? The time between June and now?"

"You want to hear about my summer? Fine." I threw my book down on the bench beside me. "Funerals. Too many funerals. Words can not express how tired I am of funerals. And then, when all of that was done, I went to Australia to try and restore my parents' memories _of me_. I'd sent them there without a clue as to who I was, you see, to keep them safe from your Death Eater friends." My voice shook and I could feel the sting of hot tears behind my eyes. "Of course, the only man who could _break_ that curse was killed over a year ago, so it was either commit them to St. Mungo's against their will, or let them continue living in Australia with their new lives. Lives that don't include me." I angrily brushed the tears from my eyes. "That was my summer." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "How was yours, Malfoy?"

"Funerals," he replied quietly. "Hearings. Thank you for your statement." He pulled a pristine handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to me and I took it after a moment's hesitation. "My parents are getting a very loud, very protracted divorce. Divorces aren't common in Wizarding society, and they both seem to be trying their best to make sure theirs is just as memorable as their wedding was." His face was open and vulnerable, his eyes filled with a resigned sort of pain that wrenched my heart, no matter who it was.

I wiped my eyes on the handkerchief and made to pass it back, but he waved his hand. "Keep it, Granger."

We sat in silence for a while, him staring out the window and me twisting the handkerchief in my lap. Eventually he said, "After dinner, I'm going to go and visit Professor Dumbledore's grave. He never gave up on me, you know, even when I gave up on myself." His eyes flicked back to mine. "Would you come with me?"

I found myself nodding.

* * *

That night after the Sorting Ceremony, after all of the first years had been shown to their House dorms, I found myself taking a walk with Malfoy through the misty night, down to the lake where Professor Dumbledore's grave was. None of the other students were allowed out of the castle so late, but being Head Boy and Girl came with certain freedoms.

Malfoy had offered me his arm, I suspect mostly out of habit, and I'd surprised the both of us when I'd taken it. We were silent as we walked, the heavy mist covering us in a fine sheen of moisture. We reached the gravesite. The lake beyond swirled in an inky black mass, the water lapping gently at the shore. Neither one of us said anything for the longest time, I was lost in memories and I suspect he was as well. I used the handkerchief he'd given me earlier that day to wipe away the silent tears that coursed down my cheeks.

"I wish Professor Snape was buried here too," I said after a while, my voice hushed against the stillness of the night. "In some ways, he seems more noble than Professor Dumbledore was."

"I do as well. He was close with my father." Malfoy's voice was thick with emotion. I was surprised that he was letting me hear him like that. "He was a good man, more than anyone else I knew when I was growing up. He saved me."

I leaned my head against his shoulder, the emotion of the moment far outstripping any of the past grievances or prejudices. In the morning, we would go back to being two people who had hated each other and were still working out where they stood now. In the morning, we would go back to being Gryffindor and Slytherin, academic rivals, people who shared a very rocky past. But just in that moment, we were two grieving souls clinging to each other in an ocean of shared pain.

He cleared his throat. "I can't take back the things I did, and I don't expect you to forget. I hope that one day, maybe, you could forgive me. Not yet," he continued when he heard my sharp intake of breath as I opened my mouth to answer. "Not yet. But some day, maybe."

"Maybe you need to forgive yourself," I suggested quietly.

"Maybe some day," he replied.


End file.
